


The Chains That Bind Us

by TheRaginPagan



Category: Hellraiser (Movies), Supernatural
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-04-15
Updated: 2018-01-14
Packaged: 2018-06-02 11:34:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 6,654
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6564565
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheRaginPagan/pseuds/TheRaginPagan
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's been one week since Dean was resurrected from Hell, and Sam still doesn't know that he remembers it all. When a bizarre case falls into their hands, and a sinister figure seeks them out, how hard must Dean fight to leave his past behind? (Takes place between S4:E2 "Are you there God? It's me, Dean Winchester" and S4:E3 "In the beginning")</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Sleep never came easy for Caroline. Of course, the chains weren't helping.

“Your struggle only makes this moment sweeter, child.” A deep, sinister voice said. It seemed to come from all around her, but all Carol could see was blackness past the chains. Several large fish-hooks pierced her flesh, pulling her arms and legs taught. Finally the owner of the chilling voice stepped into her view.

He wore a long black coat, made of a material that seemed to be leather. Strips of his chest were visible, and a vertical red line down each side appeared to be exposed muscle. His demonic appearance was horribly confirmed as she saw his face; skin as pale as death, with rows of nails protruding from nearly every angle of his scalp.

“What do you want with me?” Carol cried, blood seeping from the piercings in her skin.

The figure laughed, circling her bound form. “Want. We want so much, Caroline. But for the moment we want but one soul.”

“Mine…”

“No. Not yet, though you will find your way to us in the end. Your blood is that of a toy-maker, child, and there are others like you,” the demon continued, “fashioners of jewelry, makers of weapons, all of them tools that share existence with greater realms than Earth.”

“So what!?”

The figure stopped before Carol, his black eyes devoid of emotion. “In the center of your country resides two gunsmiths; brothers. Runaway miscreants who have long left their family history to poke and prod where human eyes should dare not.”

“I don't understand!”

The demon grabbed Carol's chin, his face inches from hers. “You will seek them out, bring them to us. One of them has fled our grasp, and we wish greatly for his return. Fail in this, and all of Hell will know your suffering!”

She screamed as the chains pulled unmercifully on her skin. As her body was torn she woke in her bed, drenched in a cold sweat. She grabbed her alarm clock, reading the face. '4:15 AM.' She set the clock back down, her hand shaking. With every blink she could see the demon’s face.

_'Seek them out, bring them to us!'_

Caroline Merchant slipped from her bed, dressing quickly. She didn't know how long she had to find these brothers, but she had an idea where to start.

* * *

 

Sam looked up from his laptop as Dean entered the hotel. “Hey, I gotta go. Yeah, see you soon.” He quickly hung up the phone, slipping it into his pocket.

“What, got a hot date?” Dean asked as he set lunch down on the table – fast food from some local grill and a bland looking salad.

“Funny, but no. Just a friend that needed some help.”

Dean looked up suspiciously. “Just a friend? Sam, remember what happened last time?”

“Yeah, shapeshifter in St. Louis, I remember.”

“Friends don’t work out too well for hunters, Sammy,” Dean said as he went to town on his burger, “they just complicate things.”

“Well, speaking of friends, Bobby thinks he has a job for us.” Sam pulled up several pages he had bookmarked online. “He got a visit yesterday from a frantic girl; a, uh, Caroline Merchant. She claimed that a demon attacked her in her dreams, and told her to find us.”

Dean shrugged, his mouth half-full of burger. “So what? Every black-eyed bitch around has been itching to find out how I got topside.”

It had been only a week since Dean had been resurrected from Hell by the angel Castiel. “Well, it gets better. Caroline gave a description of her demon. Get this: Tall, black leather, pale skin, and – the kicker – pins in his head.”

Dean’s brow furrowed as a distant look passed in his eyes. “What, like _Hellraiser_?” He shook his head. “Someone’s a fan of the 80’s. She making it up, Sammy. I doubt Bobby’s ever seen that flick.”

“That’s what I thought too, but then I did some digging. Apparently she’s not the only person to claim encounters with these demons. Cases all throughout the 90’s and early 2000’s.”

Dean shook his head, not impressed. “Could be some fan club, or some kid wanting to shock their parents.”

Sam thought for a moment. “Tulpa?”

“Like that one we fought in Texas, only using movies instead of the internet? Maybe. But Sam, don’t you think we’ve got bigger things to worry about; like, I don’t know, the freaking Apocalypse?”

Sam leaned back in his chair. “Yeah, but we’ve got nothing. This Castiel guy hasn’t told you anything else after the Witnesses. This demon’s looking for us—I’d say that’s our best shot at getting some information.”

“What, like Ruby? Hell no, Sam, I won’t work with a demon. Not again.”

Sam gave a small scoff. “She tried to help us, Dean.”

“And how well did that work out? Oh yeah, I went to Hell, Sam.”

Sam shook his head a little. “Yeah, you’re right. Look, I don’t want to fight. But we should at least look into this, do Bobby a favor. You know how tight-knit Sioux Falls is. At the very least, we’ll have one less demon to worry about.”

“Yeah, and about a billion left to go.” Dean tossed his burger wrapper aside, wiping his hands on the legs of his jeans. “Alright, let’s go.”

Sam closed his laptop, slipping it into his bag. “What, just like that?”

“Just like that.” Dean smirked, throwing his leather jacket on. “We have such sights to show you, Sammy.”

“Not funny.”


	2. Chapter 2

The Impala thundered down I-29. Dean clutched the wheel with one hand, the other scratching his chin as he thought. “Hey, Sam. Back in the hotel you said this would be ‘one less demon,’ but I thought we were hunting a tulpa.”

Sam gave a half-smile. “I suggested a tulpa, yeah, but that doesn’t mean I think it is one.”

“So what makes you so sure it’s a demon? I don’t remember them ever being big into the glee club.”

His brother’s hand went to the back of his head. “I don’t know, it just doesn’t seem like one, you know? I mean, when was the last time they started appearing in people’s dreams?”

“We’ve only ever fought the one. And we didn’t even kill it; not for sure. Other than the legend of those dudes in Tibet, I haven’t ever heard of an actual tulpa terrorizing people in their sleep.”

Sam gave a small grin. “Dean, a week ago you would have sworn up and down that angels didn’t exist, and now you’ve spoken to one--twice.”

Dean shrugged, frowning faintly.

“I just don’t think we should rule out this thing being a demon, that’s all.”

“No, I get it.” He said, focusing on the road. “At least demons are easier to kill.”

* * *

 

Later that night, the boys stopped at yet another motel. When it seemed like Dean had fallen asleep, Sam slipped quietly out the door, the latch clicking faintly behind him.

Dean opened his eyes with a scowl, getting up to peek out the window. Sam walked hurriedly through the parking lot, turned a corner and was gone. His brother pulled out his cellphone, clicking through his contacts with a frown.

Two-hundred miles away in Sioux Falls, Bobby Singer brushed a stack of papers aside and picked up his ringing phone. He looked at the name before answering. “Hey, Dean; not like you to burn the midnight oil. What’s up?”

“It’s Sam, Bobby.” Dean stepped away from the window. _“When is it not?”_ He shook his head, “He’s still trying to help his old friends, I think. It’s gonna get him in trouble again.”

Bobby poured scotch into a coffee mug. “What, are you jealous, princess?” He set the bottle down, taking a swig. “So he’s got friends; so what? You’ve got friends too, but he doesn’t come boo-hooing to me every time you give them a hand.”

Dean gave an unamused look to the empty room. “My friends are hunters, Bobby. Sam’s are frat boys and co-ed’s. They’re never ready for what we do.”

Bobby sighed, sitting in his chair. The fireplace smoldered behind him, the single log all but cinders. “I don’t think you’d call me up just to whine about your brother, Dean. What’s really going on?”

Dean sat down on the bed. “I need some info on this case you sent us. Sam and I can’t agree on what it is, and he’s too set on demons.”

Bobby sat up in his chair, a confused look on his face. “What case? I haven’t sent you idjits anything since we took down those ghosts. I figured you’d have your plate full, what with trying to figure out the Apocalypse and all.”

Dean scowled darkly. “So who gave us the case?”

_“Probably Sam’s friend.”_

“He said her name was Caroline.” Sam’s laptop flickered to life as Dean opened it. “Caroline Merchant. Ring a bell?”

“Yeah, she’s a local girl--“ Bobby trailed off as a knock came at his door. “Dean, I’m gonna have to call you back.” He hung the phone up, rising to head for the door. As a precaution, he grabbed a revolver off his desk, holding it just out of sight behind his waist.

The old hunter opened his door. Rain fell softly outside. His porch light lit up just a small area of his doorway, but enough for him to see the drenched brunette on his front step.

“Are you Bobby Singer?” She asked, shivering. “My name’s Caroline, and I need your help.”

Bobby pushed open the screen door, tucking his handgun into his waistband. “Balls.”

* * *

 

Sam walked down a dark alley, one hand constantly on the hilt of the knife in his coat.

“I hope you’re not planning on using that, Sam.”

A young woman with long black, slightly curled hair stepped from the shadows, smirking at the Winchester. “Maybe your brother’s decided to get rid of me, now that he’s back. I wasn’t much help after Lilith kicked me from the blonde, after all.”

Sam gave a hard swallow, relaxing a little bit. “Dean doesn’t know I’m here.” A small smile crept to Ruby’s lips. “Have you found anything else about this Merchant woman?”

The demon’s eyebrows lifted with bad news. “Turns out your bluff wasn’t _exactly_ a bluff.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“She just showed up at Singer’s door, asking him for help.”

Panic spread across Sam’s face. “What the hell, Ruby? I thought you were supposed to keep her away from all this, at least until we figure out who this demon is.”

Ruby backed off a step, nervousness lining her voice. “Take it easy, Sam, it’s okay. You had to have seen this coming—I mean, dropping Bobby’s name was bound to lead to trouble if Dean calls him for help. This way the old man at least knows who you two are trying to help.”

“But he didn’t give us the case. _You_ did.”

“And?” Ruby scoffed. “Just tell Dean that it was a vision, or pretend like it was. If he doesn’t know about me, then you’re doing a pretty good job covering your tracks.”

Sam’s mouth set in a hard line, his shoulders tensing as he bristled. “Should I be hiding this from him, Ruby? We are doing a good thing here, right?”

Ruby sighed, laying a hand on Sam’s arm. “Yes, Sam, we are. I told you; I’m not exactly Dean’s favorite person, or even his favorite thing right now. Especially with an angel perched on his shoulder. It’s better this way.”

Sam gave a wry, suspicious smirk. “Yeah, if you say so. Anything new on this demon? It’s not like them to play Hollywood this far.”

Ruby laughed. “You’d be surprised; how else do you think McConaughey is able to keep getting work?” Her humor sloped off as Sam gave an unimpressed look. “No, nothing new. All I know is that he’s fairly powerful, has some very powerful friends, and wants Dean back in Hell.”

“What about the Apocalypse? If he’s not on your team, he must want that to happen. Why put Dean back in Hell?”

Ruby shrugged. “I’m not sure Sam. Not all demons are one side of the fence or the other. Some just want to burn the fence down and have their own fun. Maybe he’s one of those.”

Sam’s eyebrows twitched in agreement. “Yeah, if he’s playing out movies he’s certainly on the right track for that.”

The demon woman gave his arm a squeeze. “Don’t worry so much. Just lean on the ‘psychic’ excuse, maybe throw in some moody melodrama; Dean’ll leave it alone, I promise.”


	3. Chapter 3

Bobby’s fireplace now crackled loudly, three fresh logs burning bright. Caroline sat near to it, a blanket over her shoulders and a mug of tea in her hands.

“Pins in his head?” Bobby asked incredulously. The girl nodded faintly. “I think you just fell asleep watching _Hellraiser_.”

The girl shook her head, confused. “Hell what? I don’t like horror movies.”

The old hunter raised a brow, looking to his desk where the phone sat. “Right… Well this just got nine kinds of crazy.” He gave a warming smile to the girl, “Just sit tight Caroline, I’m gonna make a phone call, set two of my best boys to help.”

“The Winchesters?”

Bobby’s eyes widened a hair in surprise. “Heard of them, have you?”

She nodded. “That freak—that… _demon_. It told me to find them. It wants me to bring them too it, but I don’t want to help a demon. I’m a Christian.” The woman took a sip from her mug. “I went to the church, thought they could help. Pastor Jeffries told me that demons were just metaphors, that they couldn’t actually hurt me.” She gave a small sniffle. “But he didn’t dream what I did, he didn’t feel them chains…

A lady that was there prayin’, Ruth, said that you’d know a lot about demons, and that you know the Winchester boys.” She looked from the fire up to Bobby. “Do you know how to stop demons?”

Bobby nodded, though his suspicion still remained. “This Ruth gal; was she a blonde?”

Carol shook her head. “No, she had black hair. Kind of wavy-like.”

The hunter nodded. “Right. Lemme make that call, you just warm up by the fire there.” He picked the phone up from his desk, stepping into the kitchen as he dialed Dean’s cell.

 _“Everything good, Bobby?”_ Dean answered, concern barely masked in his voice.

“Oh, just peachy.” Bobby replied, sarcastically. “That case Sam says I gave you, she just walked in my door.”

There was a long pause before Dean spoke, his voice low with muted anger. _“What?”_

Bobby peeked into the study. “Caroline Merchant, Sam’s ‘friend’. She showed up at my door, asking for you two. Gave me the same story about Pinhead, too.”

_“So what the hell? You think Sam’s working with Ruby still?”_

Bobby shook his head, “No, Dean. We ain’t seen hide nor hair of her since… well since you—y’know.”

_“I got it, Bobby. Thanks.”_

Bobby shrugged. “Maybe it was one of Sam’s visions. I know he hasn’t exactly been John Edwards recently, but he’s still got demon blood in him. Might be he’s got a knack for premonitions still.”

_“Yeah maybe. I’ll keep an eye on him, you just try to find out as much as you can from Kirsty about our demon superstar.”_

Bobby grimaced as Dean hung up, heading back into his study. Caroline had fallen asleep on the couch, the empty cup of tea set on the coffee table. He sat down at his desk, poured himself another mug of scotch, and began to pour through his resources.

* * *

Dean turned to the door as Sam walked in, carrying a shopping bag. “Hey, thought you might be up. I couldn’t sleep—got you pie, though.” He sat down at the dining table, pulling out his laptop and opening a berry cup from the groceries.

His older brother eyed him suspiciously, walking slowly to the table. “Yeah, couldn’t sleep either. In fact, Bobby woke me up, gave me a call just to check in.”

“Oh yeah?” Sam hardly looked up from his screen. “Was he able to get us any more info on this thing?”

Dean leaned on one of the chairs, his brow furrowed. “You could say that. Your ‘friend’, Caroline Merchant… She showed up at Bobby’s door.”

Sam gave a small grin. “Yeah Dean. I kind of told you that yesterday.”

“She showed up tonight. Not an hour ago.” When Sam didn’t answer, Dean pressed. “So who is she—really? Is she Ruby? Is that what this—“

“She’s not Ruby, Dean.” Sam said firmly, cutting his brother off. “I haven’t seen Ruby since you died.” He sighed, shutting his laptop and looking past Dean. “I don’t know who Caroline is, not exactly. Last night I just… dreamed that she came to Bobby. I wasn’t sure if it was a vision or not, but I figured it’d be worth looking into.”

Dean pushed off from the chair. “Frickin’ great. And you didn’t think to mention that you’re having psychic visions again? That can’t be a coincidence Sam; I pop up from Hell and you start going all Miss Cleo.”

Sam gave a defensive look. “I didn’t mention it, Dean, because I knew you’d react like this. It was only the dream - or vision. I didn’t have any nosebleeds, no pain, just what was going to happen.”

Dean remained unconvinced. “Oh, no, but that’s still great. We’re staring down the Apocalypse, we’re seeing dead people we know, and now you’re getting a play-by-play of game plans – _demon_ game plans."

Sam gave a small shrug. “Maybe that’s a good thing, Dean. Who knows, maybe that Castiel was showing it to me so that we could do something about it, you know? Stop a problem before it gets any worse.”

Dean threw up his hands. “Whatever, fine. So we’ve got a Doug Bradley impersonating demon and the girl with the demon dreams.”

“About her,” Sam opened his laptop back up, “something about her name sounded familiar. Did you ever watch _Hellraiser: Bloodline_?”

Dean scoffed, sitting down at the table and opening the box of pie. “Hell no. Those movies sucked after the second one.”

His brother gave a small chuckle. “Well, one of the characters in it was named Paul Merchant, a descendant of Philip Lemarchand, the Frenchman who invented the box that Pinhead came through.”

“What’s your pleasure, sir?” Dean quoted sarcastically as he shoveled a piece of pie into his mouth. “So she’s got the same name, so what? We’re not related to Charles Winchester.”

“Well, no. But don’t you think it’s a little bit odd that she’s being terrorized by a demon playing at Pinhead, and she’s got the last name of a character from the movies?”

Dean shrugged, licking cherry syrup off his fork. “Demon’s got a sense of humor, I guess. A twisted one, but that’s demons.”

His cellphone buzzed on the table, a rock solo cutting through their conversation. Dean tossed his fork into the empty pie box, answering the phone and putting it to speaker. “What’cha got, Bobby?” He set the phone on the table.

 _“Not much,”_ Bobby answered, _“just a few pages from the journal of a hunter. He was real big in the 70’s over in London, cleared out a den of werewolves.”_

“Sounds impressive, Bobby,” Sam said, his brow furrowed in confusion, “but we’re not really after werewolves here.”

 _“That’s the thing, Sam,”_ Bobby said, _“This hunter specialized in demonology. His name is Andrew Kent, but you probably know him better as Clive Barker.”_


	4. Chapter 4

“Clive Barker?” Sam asked, a wry smirk on his lips, “As in the guy who wrote the book that the entire franchise was based on?”

_“Looks like it, yeah.”_

Dean stood up from the table, his hands held up. “This is nuts. I mean _really_ nuts.”

Sam gave a small laugh “Bobby, I know we’ve taken on a lot of weird cases before, but this can’t be right. Are you sure it’s the same guy?”

 _“Of course I’m sure, ya idjits!”_ He shot back, mild annoyance in his voice, _“According to his journal, this ‘Pinhead’ that’s lookin’ for you two is a damn powerful demon, a High Priest of Hell.”_

Dean’s mouth set into a hard line as he leaned on the table, closer to the phone. “Does it say how to stop him?” He looked up at his brother, ignoring the curious look on his face.

 _“Not much,”_ Bobby replied, _“it only mentions something called ‘Lemarchand’s box,’ saying that it can send him back to Hell.”_

“That doesn’t help us a whole lot Bobby.”

 _“Well it’s a start, at least. I’m willing to bet the knife--”_ A loud shriek cut Bobby off. _“Dammit!”_ The call ended abruptly.

“Bobby? Bobby!” Dean snatched his cellphone up, throwing his leather jacket on. “Sam, move your ass, let’s go!”

Sam rushed to stuff his laptop back into his backpack, hurrying out the door after his brother. He barely had time to leap into the passenger seat of the Impala before Dean sped off.

“You don’t think this demon got to them, do you?” Sam asked, concern thick in his voice.

“I don’t friggin’ know!” Dean’s knuckles were white on the wheel as they roared down the highway, covering the distance as quickly as possible.

 

* * *

 

Dean leaned against Bobby’s door, silently motioning Sam over into position. His brother squared his shoulders, gently pulling the hammer back on his handgun. Dean reached for the knob of the door, his other hand gripping his Colt 1911.

Suddenly the door ripped open, Bobby giving the two an incredulous look. “It’s about time you two idjits showed up!” The Winchesters traded looks, equally surprised and relieved. “Get in here and give me a hand.”

Dean tucked his gun into the back of his waistband as he followed Bobby inside. “What the hell happened, Bobby? It sounded like you were being attacked.”

Bobby shook his head, motioning to Caroline. “I wasn’t, but she might have been.” She looked up as they walked in, growing visibly tense as she saw the brothers.

“This is them? The Winchesters”

Bobby gave the girl a nod. “Yep. They’re here to help, though, you’ve got nothing to worry about. Go on and tell them what you told me--after you woke up.”

Carol exhaled slowly. “Well, I was dreaming. It started off normal, real peaceful. But then that demon showed up.”

Dean gave a small smirk, leaning over to mutter to Sam. “Dude, just like _Hellraiser 3_.”

Sam elbowed him slightly, giving the girl an encouraging look. “Did he say anything specific?”

She nodded. “He wanted me to take you to the old steel mill on the edge of town. Tonight. Somehow he knew you would be here.”

Dean scoffed. “A steel mill? Really? Come on man, that’s like _right_ out of a horror flick!”

Sam gave an embarrassed look to Carol before stifling his brother. “Dean, most of our _lives_ have been right out of horror films.”

“I know, but a _steel mill?_ Not even Yellow-Eyes tried to lure us to one of those.”

Carol looked between the brothers. “You don’t believe me, do you?”

“No no, we absolutely do,” Sam reassured her, “it’s just that sometimes demons like to play twisted games.”

Carol’s brow furrowed. “Why on earth would they do that?”

Sam gave a small shrug. “It unnerves people, usually. Gets them to lower their guard, which opens them up to possession.”

Dean cut his brother off, rubbing his brow in frustration. “Look, can we save the Demonology 101 until morning? I just drove all frickin’ night, everyone’s fine – thanks for the scare Bobby, really.” He added, giving the old hunter a sarcastic grin. “We’ll make a plan for what to do with Pinhead when I can think straight.”

 

* * *

 

Hours later, the whole house was asleep but Dean. Sleep couldn’t come easy to him, not when Hell followed shortly after. He leaned on the kitchen counter, a glass of whiskey in one hand; not even that was helping to dull the anxiety.

“Dean.”

He spun around with a start, almost spilling his drink. Castiel stood close to him—uncomfortably close. “Christ… Don’t you guys knock?”

“A single strike would reduce you to a molecular level. You are only human.” The angel caught none of Dean’s sarcasm. “Besides, you are asleep.”

Dean looked from the glass in his hand to the angel. “Pretty sure I’m drinking, Cass.”

The angel didn’t bother to explain. “Heaven is concerned regarding the Hell Priest that is searching for you. He is amassing an army, seeking to drag you back to the pit. That cannot happen.”

“Yeah, thanks for the update.” Dean said. “And, you know, the reminder that I’m wanted dead or dead.” He set the glass down on the counter. “Any tips for us? How do we beat this thing – because I doubt that it’s some grunt soldier. Will the knife even work?”

Castiel gave a mildly annoyed look. “It will not.” The angel’s eyes narrowed. “Dean, you know very well what this demon is— _who_ this demon is. Your brother may be easy to fool, but you seem to forget I was the one who pulled you from his grasp.”

Dean gave a hard swallow. “So what the hell do we do?”

“You follow the orders that are given to you.” The angel turned away from Dean. “The steel mill is an obvious trap, but you must meet the demon there. We will provide as much protection as we can.”

Dean scoffed. “About time.”

“This demon will not remain for long. The more you wait, the more danger you put yourself and all those around you in. If you do not stop this demon, everything will be at risk.”

Dean woke with a start, knocking his empty glass from the dining room table. It broke on the floor, though the noise didn’t wake anyone in the house. The Winchester ran a hand through his hair with a sign, thinking over what Castiel had said.

“Everything’s always at risk.” He muttered, getting up to wake Sam.


	5. Chapter 5

"You know that it's a trap."

Dean didn't bother to look at his brother; he knew the incredulous look he wore. "Yes, Sam, I know that it's a trap." He continued driving down the gravel road towards the steel mill.

"And we're still going?" Sam threw up a hand, exasperated. "You said the knife won't work. Salt won't work. Holy water won't work; do we have _anything_ to fight with?"

"We've got an angel." Dean grimaced, wringing the steering wheel anxiously. "I hope, at least." He muttered to himself, still not entirely sure that Castiel could be trusted.

The Impala came to a stop just outside the plant. Sam got out and opened the trunk, grabbing a sawed-off shotgun. "Well, hopefully some rock salt will at least get his attention."

Dean smirked, grabbing a second shotgun. "Yeah, just watch out for chains." His brother gave a small chuckle. "I'm serious, Sammy. This demon's not like any we've ever faced."

Sam's brow furrowed a bit. "How do you know?"

"Castiel warned me in a dream." Dean said hurriedly, fishing for an excuse. "I mean, how many demons get the God-Squad worried, right? Just be careful."

The door to the mill creaked open, even as carefully as the Winchesters were to preserve some stealth. They swept the shadows around them, no flashlights illuminating the dark recesses of the factory.

"Dean," a deep, menacing voice echoed around them, bouncing off every metal surface, "so good of you to join us."

Sam searched around frantically for the source of the voice, his shotgun moving quickly. Dean's grip tightened on his weapon, his mouth setting into a hard line.

"What fun we shall have breaking you." The demon stepped from the shadows, above them on a catwalk. Sam spun around, his lip twitching in surprise. He had expected the demon from the books and the movies, yet it was still a shock to see: Black leather and stripped flesh. Pins protruding from every angle of his scalp. He grinned at the Winchesters, his cold black eyes glistening.

"Will you enjoy your brother, Dean, as you enjoyed so many others? When his flesh tears, and his bones burn, will you laugh again?"

Sam looked quickly to his brother. "What's he talking about, Dean?"

The older Winchester turned and shot at the Hell Priest. Rock salt scattered off a forge as the demon's laughter echoed around them. "He's trying to get in our heads, Sammy. Don't listen to his crap." He glanced around frantically, hoping that Cass would show up before the Priest said any more.

He froze as slender hands crept over his shoulders, a woman's voice taunting flirtatiously. "Ah, Dean... How I've missed you."

The female demon leaned in close to Dean's face. Her bald head was covered in thin needles - not as pronounced as the Hell Priest's, but a similar pattern. Even still, the Winchesters recognized her.

"Bella. Can't say the same." He gave a hard swallow, glancing to Sam. "Figured you'd be in Crossroads, knowing how much you loved to screw people over for an extra buck."

"Oh, don't be so droll Dean." She whispered venomously. "You can't expect me to believe you didn't enjoy our little sessions. The souls we would rend and burn, and then after..." Her fingertips dug into his shoulders as her voice rose. "But now you are weak, broken, and we will tear _you_ apart."

Sam's grip tightened on his shotgun, though he didn't have a clear shot. "Any time would be _great."_ Dean said through clenched teeth.

"Much as I'd like to I can't!" Sam shouted.

"Not you." Castiel stood beside the demon woman, addressing Sam. "Me." The demon spun, surprised, and the angel pressed his palm to her forehead. Bella snarled and spun Dean around, using him to knock the angel away before quickly retreated into the shadows.

The Hell Priest frowned down at them. "Ah, the uninvited pigeon, here to peck around its dying flock."

Cass glared up at the demon, while Dean smirked in forced bravado. "Still a bigger flock than yours, Pinhead."

"A single soldier, in a legion of _thousands._ "

Dean scoffed. "Only a thousand? Why don't you step up your advertising, make more movies? You know, I hear video games are all the rage with kids these days."

Sam gave a hard swallow. "Yeah, maybe don't piss him off? We practically know what he can do, and I like my skin right where it is." His brother shrugged in acknowledgement.

"Dean, Sam, leave." Thunder rumbled as Cass spread his wings, their shadow stretching out across the factory floor." I will handle this from here."

The demon smirked. "Such hubris. You know very well that you cannot smite me, Child of God. I am beyond you." With a flick of his wrist, chains shot from the shadows of the ceiling. They cut across Castiel's arm, light shining from the wound. "Behold your own essence; delight in it, bask in its warmth! You will see much more before we are through." The Winchesters raised their shotguns in unison and fired at the Priest, salt pelting his coat. He raised his other hand, chains lancing into the ground in front of the brother's feet. "You will wait your turn."

Castiel turned to them, his expression grim. "I said leave!"

Sam grabbed Dean by the shoulder, pulling his brother away as he backed towards the door. Chains crossed the entryway, held for a moment, and then fell to the ground.

Pinhead scowled. "Ply your tricks, little bird. Winchester _will_ return to us."

The angel turned his attention back to the demon. "Not today, nor ever." He thrust a hand behind him, pushing the Winchesters out of the steel mill. They hit the dirt, sliding away from the building as the doors slammed shut behind them. Light erupted from every opening, and then all was silent.

Sam shot to his feet, running a hand through his hair. A stricken expression was on his face, before it twisted in confusion. "What the hell was that, Dean? He knew you!"

Dean sat up. "Yeah, Sam, they're demons."

"No, I mean they _knew_ you, _personally!"_

"So what, Sam?" Dean shouted, climbing to his feet. "They're demons, we're Winchesters; I mean we're practically Hell celebrities! Not to mention, I was in Hell!"

"And Bella? What the hell was she doing with him? What the hell was she doing with _you?_ "

Dean rolled his head in frustration. "I don't know! I mean, you might not care to remember, but she went to Hell too. I don't remember anything that happened."

"Don't do this, Dean," Sam accused, "they were talking to you like high school buddies."

Dean shrugged. "Yeah, right before Bella threatened to tear me apart. They're demons, Sam, they lie. Alright? And we know that Bella was a sleazy liar before she became Purina. They were just trying to get us worked up." He gestured to his brother. "Mission freakin' accomplished."

He hefted his shotgun in exasperation as he turned to the Impala, waving a hand forward. "C'mon, Castiel smoked him; let's blow this joint."

Sam shook his head in frustration, stalking to the passenger side and climbing in.


	6. Chapter 6

Bobby stood from his desk as the brothers came through his front door. “Well?”

Dean gave a half smile, his arms spread wide in victory. “Score for the angels. Castiel smoked the pinheaded freak.”

Sam sat down at the dining table, shaking his head. “You know… Now that all the excitement’s over, it’s hard to believe I just met an angel.” He gave a small laugh. “It was…”

“Not what you expected?”

“Yeah. I mean, don’t get me wrong I’m glad he’s on our side. I just didn’t expect a warrior.”

Dean smirked. “You know, he told me once to ‘read the bible’. Told me that’s exactly what angels are.”

Bobby set a bottle of whiskey down on the table. “Hate t’ break up the philosophy lesson, but you two are bummin’ me out. You survived, have a damn drink.”

Dean’s eyebrows perked as he poured a glass. “How’s our insider; uh, Caroline?”

“Asleep in the back. Didn’t take much to convince her it’d be best to stick around, ‘til you two got this mess sorted.”

The older Winchester gave a silent laugh. “Yeah. Now to just solve the damn Apocalypse.”

“This problem remains a threat.”

The three men stood abruptly as Castiel appeared in the dining room. The angel was bloodied, his coat and clothing shredded in places, and in his hands was an ornate gold box. Sam’s brow furrowed with recognition. “Is that what I think it is?”

Castiel nodded. “The Lament Configuration, yes.”

Dean looked between his brother and Bobby before taking a swig of whiskey. “I’ll bite; what does that mean?”

“It is a hellforged key, and the only way to render the Hell Priest vulnerable.”

Bobby furrowed his brow. “The boys sure could have used that before stepping into your trap.”

Castiel looked to the Winchesters, his gaze lingering on Sam. “It was no trap of mine, but it was a necessary measure. The demon kept this relic on his person. Distracting him allowed me to recover it without his knowledge.”

Sam bristled. “Distract him?” He repeated, incredulous. “You used us as bait, so that you could steal a box?”

Castiel’s eyes narrowed, as though he was trying to determine whose side Sam was on. “You were set to a task, as happens in a war.” He stepped closer to the Winchesters. “You do understand that we are at war? Risks must be taken if you expect to have any chance of preventing Armageddon.”

Sam shook his head. “You should have told us.”

“What other allies would you have at your back, had you know?”

A hush fell over the room as Sam resigned, leaving the question unanswered. Castiel set the box on the table between them all. “We do not have time for this. Every minute spent arguing gives Hell time to regroup; by now they will know that we possess the Lament Configuration.”

Dean shrugged. “So what’s our plan, then? Fiddle with the box until chains rip us apart? Or maybe we just throw the damn thing at him.”

“This is no time for jokes.”

“No, you’re right; it’s time for some answers!” Dean stood abruptly, knocking his chair backwards. “You’ve got us monkeying all over, putting _our_ necks on the line, and all you’re giving us in return is cryptic _bullcrap!”_

Castiel gave him a hard look. “Very well. But first I need your word that what comes next you will accept. That you will obey without question.”

Sam answered before his brother could get a word in. “We will. If it helps us defeat this demon, and prevent Lucifer from rising, we’ll follow orders.” He gave an equally hard look to Dean, pressuring him to comply as well. The brothers looked to Bobby, seeking his input.

Bobby shrugged. “Don’t look at me, ya idjits; I’m not steppin’ foot outside this house.”

“None of us will,” Castiel explained, “for this is where we must draw the demon. He has focused on Caroline Merchant as his unwilling messenger, and so we must use the girl to draw him to us.”

Dean’s eyes went wide. “Use her as _bait?_ ”

Sam waved a hand, stifling his brother. “It wouldn’t be the first time for us, but we should let her know.”

“No.” Castiel objected. “This demon is far too cunning, and so her fear must be real. If he suspects a trap… All will be for nothing.”

Dean let out a sigh, refilling his glass of whiskey. “Fine. Whatever. So we get him here, zap him with the box, and then you light him up like Christmas. Crisis averted.”

“This crisis, yes. Removal of the Hell Priest will not halt the breaking of the Seals, nor defeat Hell in its entirety. This demon wishes for Lucifer to remain caged, so that he might rule all of creation himself.”

Bobby shook his head, confused. “So what, we’re doin’ the Devil a solid?”

“We favor no one, so long as Lucifer’s cage remains sealed.” Castiel looked between the three. “This is the only way we defeat this demon, spare Dean from being returned to Hell, and stopping _this_ doom from breaking out over Heaven and Earth. This demon is not bound or imprisoned by seals, and so this _must_ take precedence.”

Dean downed his drink, nodding reluctantly. “Let’s get it over with then.”

 

* * *

 

Caroline woke slowly. The room was dark, though dimly lit by a few candles. Once more, she was suspended by chains – a fact she slowly grew to realize – though these ones held her by manacles, rather than hooks. “It’s a dream, just a dream. Wake up, wake up, wake up…” As she tried to convince herself it wasn’t real, a man dressed in a trenchcoat stepped into her view.

“It is not a dream, but necessity.”

Carol tugged at the chains holding her aloft. “Where are the Winchesters? I was at Bobby’s…” He gave no answer, but glanced to the side. “Mister, you don’t gotta do this. I don’t know what you been promised, but you gotta know he’s _evil._ ”

He stepped closer to her, placing a knife on her collarbone and saying nothing. The scent of mint followed him, unnerving Carol as it contrasted with her situation. “Please…”

“What’s this, now?” A woman’s voice filled the room; haughty and venomous. “The pigeon becomes a hawk, and trusses up meat for the wolves.”

Caroline saw the Cenobite emerge from the shadows, and knew she was about to die.


End file.
